Reborn Song Qingshu: Besieging Bright Peak at the Start

After setting off, everyone inevitably talked about the impressive demeanor of the nine people they had just met.

The eight hunters were unerring in their arrows, decisive in their killings, and willing to help those in need. This coincided with the Ming Cult's mission of "expelling the Tartars and saving the common people," and the heroes of the Ming Cult couldn't help but feel a sense of mutual respect.

Over the years, the Ming Cult has been dedicated to overthrowing the tyranny of the Yuan Dynasty. As a result, they have been suppressed by the government for a long time and forced to act in secret, which makes them seem strange. Because there are many disciples in the cult, there are inevitably some despicable people. This is why they are called the Demonic Cult. However, they greatly admire any anti-Yuan forces and wish they could befriend those nine people.

Zhou Dian spoke with the most enthusiasm, spittle flying everywhere:

"Did you see the archery skills of those eight hunters? Good heavens, they were absolutely accurate, hitting the bullseye from a hundred paces away!"

The Tartars hadn't even fully drawn their bows when they were already mowing down hordes of them like machine guns. Watching this, Old Zhou was filled with excitement, itching to rush up and test my skills against them—oh, not in archery, but in swordsmanship!

Peng Yingyu smiled and continued, "Those eight people moved with great skill and coordinated perfectly; they were definitely not ordinary hunters."

Wei Yixiao interjected sarcastically:

"Old Bat has lived for so many years, and there are only a handful of people in the martial arts world with such superb archery skills. That pretty girl disguised as a man can make these eight men bow down to her. It's not something that money can do."

Upon hearing this, everyone nodded in agreement.

He seemed to be deep in thought as he said:

"The girl's attire from head to toe, just that fan alone would be enough for an ordinary family to live on for three years. And when she spoke, she said 'Leave no one alive.' Tsk tsk, that's so decisive and ruthless. I wonder which noble family she comes from."

……

As Song Qingshu rode his yellow horse, he listened to the enthusiastic discussion among the crowd, and chuckled to himself.

The "righteous hero" you speak of is actually setting up a trap for you on the road ahead. At Green Willow Manor, traps and poisons are probably already fully prepared.

However, he naturally wouldn't say these words aloud. He just casually echoed a few words, and then subtly slowed down his horse and retreated to the back of the group.

They approached Xiao Zhao.

The girl was still the same as before, timidly following Zhang Wuji, the iron chains on her ankles rattling.

Every time Song Qingshu saw her obedient yet pitiful appearance, he couldn't help but want to tease her.

"Little Zhao, my dear sister."

He rode up to her side and looked her up and down with a smile.

"It's been over a month since I last saw you, and you've grown even more beautiful! Have you missed me, Brother Song?"

Xiao Zhao blushed instantly when he called her that, and murmured softly:

"Young Master Song...is he well..." The voice was so soft it was like a mosquito's hum.

  

"Why are you still calling me Young Master Song? That's too formal. Call me Brother Song, or 'Brother Qingshu' will also do. Choose one."

Song Qingshu solemnly raised two fingers.

Xiao Zhao's face turned even redder, and she wished she could bury her head in her collar, squeezing out a soft "Brother Song... Brother Song," her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

Song Qingshu nodded in satisfaction, then his gaze fell on the iron chain around her ankle. He frowned slightly and said, half-jokingly and half-seriously:

"Hey, why are you still wearing those chains? Say a few nice words to Brother Song, and he'll try to untie you, okay?"

Xiao Zhao's eyes lit up, but she quickly lowered her head, her ears burning red.

Hearing this conversation from the front, Zhang Wuji turned around, glanced helplessly at Song Qingshu, and said with a wry smile:

"Senior brother, stop teasing Xiao Zhao."

Song Qingshu laughed and waved his hand at Zhang Wuji: "Just kidding, look how worried you are."

Upon hearing this, Xiao Zhao's neck turned bright red, and Zhang Wuji scratched his head in embarrassment, not daring to continue the conversation.

In the following days, he talked with Yang Buhui about life and their ideals.

And so they wandered over to the donkey cart again.

Yang Buhui was sitting on the carriage shaft, taking care of Yin Liting.

Yin Liting's condition is slightly better than a few days ago. Although he is still unable to move, his spirits are not so low, and he can occasionally respond in a daze.

After Song Qingshu arrived, he first took Yin Liting's pulse, and then used his Nine Yang True Qi to clear several blocked meridians in Yin Liting.

Yin Liting felt a warm current flow from Song Qingshu's palm into her limbs and bones, and the cold, stinging pain in her crushed joints lessened somewhat. She couldn't help but look at him gratefully and managed to squeeze out a few words: "Qingshu... thank you..."

"Uncle, you're too kind. This is what I should do."

Song Qingshu smiled and withdrew his hand, then sat down on the carriage shaft next to Yang Buhui.

Yang Buhui already had a good impression of him. She had seen the scene on Bright Peak where Song Qingshu protected Wuji with his sword.

After spending the last few days together, she discovered that this young hero Song from the Wudang Sect not only had none of the airs of a disciple of a prestigious sect, but was also witty, easy-going, and full of clever remarks, unlike any man she had ever met in her life.

More importantly, his storytelling skills are truly amazing.

When Song Qingshu had nothing to do, he would tell Yang Buhui stories from the novels he had read in his previous life.

He was already an excellent orator, and he was also well-versed in the art of "leaving suspense in a broken chapter." He adapted the story of Sword Comes, telling it vividly and with great intonation, mentioning things like Chen Ping'an, the boy from Mud Bottle Alley, and Qi Jingchun, who could move mountains and overturn seas.

Yang Buhui grew up on Bright Peak since childhood, so how could she have heard of such things?

His greatest hope during his daily journey was that Song Qingshu would continue the story. Sometimes he would be so engrossed in listening that he would forget to feed Yin Liting his medicine.

Today, Song Qingshu recounted the story of Chen Ping'an's mother passing away from a serious illness. The little child knelt before her bed, holding her cold hand, calling out "Mother" over and over again, but could no longer bring back that gentle voice.

He spoke with great emotion, his voice unconsciously softening as if afraid of disturbing something.

Yang Buhui listened intently, her eyes unconsciously reddening.

She thought of her mother.

I myself was raised by my mother when I was very young, but I watched helplessly as she died before my eyes.

She would never forget the image of her mother lying motionless on the ground, and her holding her mother's body, crying out again and again, "Mommy, Mommy! Are you in pain? Are you in pain?"

Her small body clung tightly to her mother, shaking the corpse incessantly, but she couldn't wake her up no matter what she did.

"May everything be peaceful and safe, may everything be well and secure, year after year, may everything be peaceful and safe..."

I suppose that's what my mother hoped for me before she passed away?

"Little sister Bu Hui, why are you crying? It's my fault, it's all my fault..."

Song Qingshu's voice suddenly came close to his ear, carrying a hint of apology and panic.

As he spoke, he pulled up his sleeve and gently pressed it against Yang Buhui's cheek to wipe away her tears.

Yang Buhui then came to her senses and realized that her behavior was somewhat intimate with Song Qingshu. A slight blush rose to her cheeks, and she hurriedly moved away.

She wiped her face haphazardly with her sleeve, her voice still trembling with tears, "It's not that... Brother Qingshu, the story you told was so heartbreaking... Chen Ping'an was so young, and his mother passed away. How pitiful..."

As she spoke, her eyes welled up with tears again: "When my mother passed away... I was so young..."

Song Qingshu could only comfort her again, patting her shoulder and wiping away her tears...

Lying to the side, Yin Liting murmured, "Aba... Aba..."